Withered

‘What happened between you?’ whispered the other lady looking at the body being lowered into the grave.

‘He was like a creeper in my life’ continued the girl in black ‘he spread his roots into my foundations and slowly – slowly climbed his way up. He made me feel he was beautifying me and enhancing my grace. His branches began to engulfed me, he used me to stand tall in the social circle and yet paid no head to my needs. He sucked life and energy from me and never acknowledged it. I was naïve to understand his intentions and approved off his demands.

He demanded to read my thoughts; I told him “I am an open book”, but he put no effort on reading me, “there is an entire lifetime to understand you” was his words. I was not satisfied by his ways so I read myself to him. I poured more and more of me into him.

He demanded my time, so I gave up my engagements for him. I sacrificed everything for him and kept his desires as my priority, maybe that was where I went wrong. I submitted myself to him, spend all the time with him and yet it was never enough for him. Slowly-slowly he creeped all over me and hid my existence, I was there somewhere inside, for someone to recognise me; but there was no one who knew me.

He demanded my body, to touch me, to experience me. That was all I was for him, an experiment. He touched me softly and enjoyed me slowly. His tendrils penetrated deeper within me, I was told it was what is called love; but my body cried otherwise. I refused to offer myself and his touch turned offensive. Demands turned to commands, he called it his right. He exploited me, even my shadow looked prettier than my reflection. I was trapped, knew no rescue. His touch burned me, they still do. A knife passes through my heart every time I remember his actions, but now no more’. She fell on the floor tears rolling down, her body began to shiver and then calmed down. As her conscious returned she pulled a tiny bottle from her pocket and drank from it and signaled everyone that she is fine.

She regained posture and sat down to continue ‘I refused to let him feed on me and denied to offer myself up to his demands. Punctured his heart with the same knife and let him open to bleed. He began to wither and I watched him. My mind said watching him suffer would heal me but it was otherwise. He had been within me for too long, I had penchanted with him. As he dries out and his tendrils began to break they left wounds within me. I mistook him to be the weaker one, and stabbed him one last time. It scattered him back to the ground, to where he belongs but the world did not see it likewise. They saw him fall and blamed me. My wounds bled and I began to wither too. I couldn’t hold myself up and collapsed. Wounded and withered I must return to the same soil he reduced to, maybe we did belong together’. Tears poured down from her eyes and she again collapsed to the ground, her body began to shiver with increasing intensity. Her eyes rolled back and forth flowed from her mouth. Everyone at the cemetery rounded on her and within seconds her body gave up its life.

‘You forgot, new life is born from the old one’. Said the other lady closing her dead eyes.

Hi dear readers, Charisma James is the the heart of this website. A student of microbiology by day and a blogger by night she belives in giving voice to her thoughts. This blog is a platform for sharing her writing journey, social and personal issues that everyone experiences and some on her memories to the world. she writes short stories and poems which can be entertaining for some and questionable to others; either ways, she loves to listen to other's opition. Drop a comment and give voice to your opinion.